


Bound

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Dark Knight [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Consensual BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 01:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5986995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo is nervous. Kylo is very nervous. It’s quite one thing to get caught up in the heat of the moment and play love-games, it’s quite another to do something deliberate, pre-meditated, calculated...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> This is most assuredly not the Kylo from The Fallacy of the False Choice, by the way.

Kylo is nervous. Kylo is _very_ nervous. It’s quite one thing to get caught up in the heat of the moment and play love-games, it’s quite another to do something deliberate, pre-meditated, calculated.

He nearly chickens out about fifteen times, waiting. The waiting is the worst. He tried to time it as best he could for when Poe was due back from his aerial drill, but you can never account for how long they’re busy _after_. And as he didn’t tell Poe that today he had any plans, the other man has no reason to hurry back and find out the truth.

It wasn’t easy, even with the Force. He’d had to focus really hard to get the red and black satin ribbons to lace just so along his arms and legs and up to the bedposts. He’d fussed like mad to get the lines even and symmetrical, probably putting more effort in than Poe could ever imagine. Admittedly none of the bonds he could ever put on himself would last if he wanted _out_ , but it’s the principle of the thing, more than anything else.

The lines swoop around his extended limbs, pulling him tight like a drumskin ready to be beaten. The tension is in every line, every muscle pulled just so and ready to snap. The stretch makes him ache in all the right ways, and he could get himself off on just this, he thinks. Just the bonds that slide around him, and spread him open and bare.

There’s another one, lightly tied in a bow, circling his cock and balls. Not so tight that it cuts off the circulation, but enough that he can feel it _constantly there_ , a tease that’s nothing like a hand, nothing like what he really wants between his thighs.

Around his throat is a heavy, thick-gauge collar, one that means his head can barely move up and down, only turn from side to side. Not that there’s anything to see that he hasn’t seen a hundred times or more. His head is pulled back - throat struggling - because of the chain from said collar down over his spine and to the hook nestled deep within him. The little metal S that curls into his body, between his legs, teasing his hole ever wider. If he tries to drop his head, it becomes a blissful agony of spreading his hole open. If he doesn’t drop his head, he’s very gently suffocated. By the minutest of degrees. 

It’s heaven, and it’s hell, and Kylo’s eyes water as he tries to find the perfect balance between the two.

By the time Poe gets home and finds his lover bound and waiting, Kylo’s ready to sob with it. He turns hopeful, longing eyes up to his Master, and begs him to take pity on him.

No.

 _To show no mercy_ , because he deserves none.

“Oh, _Kylo_ ,” comes the breathy approval, Poe dropping his things and walking in close.

“Please,” Kylo whispers. “I’m yours.”


End file.
